The forest thinned slowly, trees giving way to jagged stone and dead ground, as if the land itself knew what stood ahead and had decided not to grow too close.
Tomora pushed through the last line of brush and froze.
Black Iron City rose before him like a wound in the earth.
Its walls were massive slabs of dark stone fused with iron veins that caught the sun and reflected nothing back. Towers stabbed into the sky, uneven and brutal, each one crowned with banners so faded they looked like old bloodstains flapping in the wind. Scars ran across the walls—cracks from ancient sieges, blackened patches where fire had once eaten stone.
This place had been attacked before.
And it had survived every time.
Tomora swallowed.
Every step forward sent pain screaming through his body. His ribs still ached from the hooded figure's "lessons," his legs felt like they'd been beaten with clubs, and one ankle protested with every movement. He leaned heavily on the worn stick in his hand, more crutch than weapon, knuckles white as he forced himself onward.
Stopping wasn't an option.
Not here.
The closer he got, the louder the city became. Metal rang against metal. Voices shouted orders. Wagons creaked over stone roads. The sound of civilization—but sharpened, hardened, like everything here had teeth.
At the main gate, a massive monolith loomed beside the entrance.
Tomora's stomach dropped.
The Level Scanner.
It was ancient—older than the city itself. A single slab of stone taller than three men, carved from something darker than granite and threaded with glowing runes that pulsed like a slow heartbeat. Symbols crawled across its surface, rearranging themselves endlessly, waiting.
Waiting to expose lies.
Waiting to tear secrets out of flesh.
Anyone who passed too close would have their power laid bare. Element. Rank. Awakening. Bloodline.
Everything.
Tomora imagined the runes lighting up the moment he stepped forward.
Ancestral Awakened.
Water Elemental.
Mimic.
The last word alone would be a death sentence.
He backed away slowly, keeping his head down, pretending to be just another traveler passing near the gate. Guards stood nearby in dark armor, faces hidden behind iron helms, spears resting easily in their hands. They weren't tense.
They didn't need to be.
Nothing dangerous ever walked openly into Black Iron City.
Tomora turned away from the gate and followed the wall instead, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might crack his ribs open from the inside.
The wall stretched endlessly, rough stone rising far above him. He walked until the gate sounds faded, until the guards were nothing more than distant silhouettes.
Then he stopped.
He looked up.
"…Figures," he muttered.
There was no easy way in.
The stone was uneven but old—weathered just enough to give purchase. He tested the wall with his fingers, wincing as pain flared through his arms.
"Don't think," he whispered to himself. "Just move."
He jumped.
His fingers caught stone. His boots scraped loudly before finding a ledge. He froze, breath held, listening.
Nothing.
He climbed.
Each pull sent fire through his muscles. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision. His injured ankle slipped once, his body swinging dangerously away from the wall.
His heart nearly stopped.
He slammed his chest back into the stone, clinging like an insect.
Below him—
"Did you hear that?"
Tomora's blood turned to ice.
A guard's voice.
He pressed himself flat against the wall, barely daring to breathe as footsteps approached from below. Shadows moved. A torch flared.
"Probably a rat," another voice said. "This wall's crawling with them."
The first guard grunted. "Still. Keep your eyes open."
The torchlight drifted away.
Tomora waited three full breaths before moving again.
He climbed faster now, ignoring the pain, fingers raw, palms bleeding. The top came into view—stone teeth lining the edge like a crown.
With a final desperate push, he hauled himself up and rolled over the edge.
He didn't rest.
The moment his boots hit the other side, he dropped down, landing hard on a narrow ledge inside the city. Pain exploded up his leg, but he bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming.
He didn't stop.
A horn sounded.
"HEY!"
Tomora looked up just as a guard on the wall spotted him.
Too late.
He ran.
He hit the ground and bolted, sprinting into the chaos of the city. Streets twisted unpredictably, stone buildings packed so tightly together they blocked the sun. People shouted as he barreled past, curses flying as he shoved through carts and stalls.
"STOP HIM!"
Boots thundered behind him.
Tomora turned sharply into an alley barely wide enough for his shoulders. He skidded, slammed into a wall, and kept moving. Another turn. Then another.
His lungs burned. His vision narrowed.
A dead end.
"Damn it!"
He leapt, grabbing a hanging sign, swinging himself up onto a low roof as a spear clanged against stone where his head had been a second earlier. He rolled, scrambled, and ran across rooftops, tiles cracking beneath his feet.
Below him, guards flooded the streets.
"Split up!"
"He went that way!"
Tomora jumped again, landing awkwardly, barely keeping his balance. Pain screamed through his body, but his training carried him forward. He dropped down behind a tall warehouse and vanished into the shadows.
Finally—silence.
He collapsed behind stacked crates, chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face. His hands shook violently as adrenaline faded, leaving only exhaustion and pain behind.
He covered his mouth, forcing his breathing to slow.
He was inside.
Black Iron City.
The lion's den.
From somewhere deep within the city, bells rang. Not alarm bells—routine ones. Life continuing, uncaring.
Tomora pressed his back against the cold stone and closed his eyes for just a second.
"…Alright," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm in."
And for the first time since leaving the forest, a small, dangerous smile crept onto his face.
Now came the hard part.
Finding the truth—
Without letting the city swallow him whole.